


Teenage Wasteland

by Kingfisherwoes



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Both Peter and Tony attend the same high school, IM3 inspired gadgets, M/M, Mostly Spider-Man is the only superhero, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Peter's a Junior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Spider-Man in his homemade outfit, Steve is Tony's guardian, Tony is Eighteen, Tony is a artist, Tony's a Senior, homemade gadgets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-23 13:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16619762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingfisherwoes/pseuds/Kingfisherwoes
Summary: A high school troupe AU where Tony’s parents are in a accident that cost them their lives. Tony must go into ‘hiding’ and leaves his home in California to live with his father’s old college buddy, Steve Rogers (who Tony despises but is his god father and also works for the NYPD).The kicker? Tony must live like a normal teenager which means no MIT, name is changed to Anthony (Tony) Collins instead of Tony Stark. Obadiah runs the company until Tony is 21 and when his life is not in danger. He’s attending Midtown High and is dreading everyday because he wants his life back.Well, Peter is still Spider-Man but is sporting around with his self made suit and one night out patrolling his runs across Tony (who is a graffiti artist and rebels against almost everything Steve asks him not to do.) Peter is about to bring Tony in for ruining property. Until Tony goes ham and pulls out all the self made weapons from regular household items (what he did in Iron Man 3) and gets away from Peter.Now, Peter wants Tony to help him make a new suit and a relationship blossoms from there??? Action! Hilarious encounters! Realism? A dash of mystery… Romance… All kinds of fluffy dramatic fun!





	1. One: Impulse

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh I've been working on this thing for such a long time. I don't even know if it's any good. I want to throw out a special thanks to some of the most wonderful people who helped me along the way!
> 
> lokislonelylady  
> the-mad-starker  
> Sbiderslut
> 
> Thank you so much for looking over and putting up with my half outlines until I finally bit the bullet and finished this.
> 
> Any remaining errors are mine and I'll take full responsibility for. Let me know so I can correct them :)
> 
> Mild Trigger warning:  
> Trauma  
> Medication and mental health issues
> 
>  
> 
> Also! please visit me on Tumblr under Kingfisherwoes! Then you can check out the-mad-starker's beautiful Moodboard they made for this story. It's so pretty!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! <3

**One: Impulse**

**Tony**

Pink Floyd had many psychedelic tracks and usually it would lull Tony right into concentration. Tonight though, anything Tony tried wasn’t cutting it. Nothing could drown out the morons below. Not with all the drivers playing a game of bumper cars. Tires screeched harshly against the pavement like sharp nails scraping down a chalkboard. Tony gritted his teeth against the sound. He cringed that made his shoulders jerk, wanting anything to  be rid of the unpleasant noises ringing in his ear.

This wasn’t the first round of horns blaring throughout Manhattan’s chilly air, and Tony was at his limit. He knew he needed something special to mute the background noise. Something with as much screaming and wailing on it as possible. Even then, Tony doubted it would do the trick.

Dark eyebrows knitted together as he began to gnaw at the inside of his cheek. _Like these idiots have somewhere important to go on a weeknight?_ He thought while craning his head to the side.  Tony looked down from all the way at the top of the scaffolding. His left hand gripped the cold metal pole as he hung his body over the heavily lit street.

Tony was high enough to experience his stomach fluttering like moth wings. It caused a reaction similar to his anxiety but not exactly. If that made sense? He relished these moments because it was his choice to feel that way. Not a build up of things out of Tony’s control.

By hanging off the pole, Tony was allowing the feeling to consume him. He was allowing himself the chance to take deep breaths to calm himself down. It was his opportunity to do it himself and not be expected to play the role of someone perfect for the people around him.

A car horn disrupted Tony’s thoughts as he stared at the long stretch of vehicles. It was backed up to Park Avenue towards 22nd street. The insanity of it all made Tony let out a scoff as he thought, _Traffic was never this bad in California._

Thinking of the warm sunshine that was unique to California was never a good idea. Actually, thinking of anything resembling home was just asinine. Tony knew this, but also knew it was a extremely difficult thing to do.

He didn’t want to set off his anxiety, especially now that he’s been flushing a pill a day to fool everyone around him. Tony liked to have everyone believe that he was doing a lot better, but he couldn’t do with the fake happiness that consumed him. Everything from when he woke up to when he fell asleep never felt real. It was like he was constantly joyful but it never felt genuine.

Was it honestly that bad that he wanted to break free from his medication? Was it too much to ask that he didn’t want to band-aid the problem anymore?

Of course everyone in Tony’s life would be against it. So, naturally he was keeping it a secret. Tony just hoped he could get by without having an episode. Tonight had marked day fourteen, exactly two weeks since his last panic attack. At least seven days since taking his medication, and Tony felt great. As long as no one asked him how he was doing then he was great. Tony was good at pretending.

Sirens erupted as a police car rushed down the street, causing Tony’s heart to jack-rabbit in his chest. He adjusted his grip on the pole and pushed himself back upward. He stared down at his hand where a few specks of dust had landed, and brushed them off irritably.

Between his life becoming a shit show and his mental health teetering on the edge, Tony thought he honestly could use a break. That was why he was out here tonight, but everyone and their Grandma Susie seemed to be riding downtown. _Seriously, there isn’t a single place here that is quiet. Am I asking too much here?_ Tony dropped his chin down against his chest and fumbled at the bottom of his coat. He often wondered if he asked for too much.

Tony knew he was a handful. _Hell_ , he was a Stark for crying out loud! But despite all of his assertiveness and confidence he threw out into the world, he was terrified. The way he portrayed himself was all show. Tony felt like he always had to put on a performance. It was what people expected from him.

Tony pressed his headphones against his ears. The volume was already at full capacity and did nothing to silence the infuriating sounds. If Tony could turn up his music any louder, he would risk the chance of an eardrum bursting.

"Actually?" he muttered himself, "I might consider that."

Tony pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, pressing in his passcode with a few taps from his thumb. A rose-colored tongue peeked out past his lips as he licked along the rim of his mouth, causing a slight twinge of pain from the cracks found there. Tony ignored this and began filtering through his extensive library.

He let his finger scroll through numerous options, settling on a record by Led Zeppelin. Tony waited for the track to take over, his head leaning backward. Small flakes of frozen water fell delicately from the dark clouds above. Tony disliked the snow, hating the fact that the frigid air was numbing his fingers.

 _This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan,_ Tony thought bitterly, while bringing his hands up to his mouth to blow hot air onto them. Only to be reminded of his respirator mask being in the way. He tugged it away past his jaw like a toddler in a midst of having a fit. His pulse quickened as his temper flared.

 _Breathe Tony-Boy,_ he thought closing his eyes, _just breathe. You’re Tony Stark. You can do this._

Although he did having to admit. Nothing in Tony Stark’s life was part of his plan.

 _Anthony Collins_ , he reminded himself, breathing in the chilly air around him. It filled up his lungs with crisp night air and his mind wandered. One thing he could control was his over eager mind, and if it wanted him to do some fucked up shit and rebel? So be it.

Tony's eyes scanned through the many planes of his mural. Mostly just an outline of a man made from iron, standing tall and proud against the tower from where he was working from.

Tony could tell it was going to be exceptional. He reached up and securely fastened his mask back over his mouth and nose, leaving gaps to potentially allow air out and paint fumes in wouldn't be smart. Tony might not be afraid of heights, but he would admit to being afraid of falling if he got high off the fumes. He rearranged his traced out stencil in a new spot against the building, pressing down around the corners where the duck tape was located on and checked the location placement.

Tony had mindlessly stayed up well past the early hours of the morning sketching out this mural back in his room. He had pitched most of his ideas until finally his hand was working with his image in his head and he finally came up with something special.

 _This._ Tony thought, shaking the spray paint bottle back and forth, _will be all worth it._

He started off lightly, letting the gold shimmer even in the dim lightening. After a few light strokes, Tony completely got lost in the process.  Tony made methodical jerks of his wrist to shade in areas and add highlights in others while completely emerging himself in the song that played in his ears.

Tony smiled as he added in a blending technique he recently mastered, loving how the man of steel seemed to come to life with each new detail. Tony knew as a lump formed in his throat that his mom would be proud of him.

It had to be perfect timing that his track was ending. Otherwise Tony knew there was no way he would’ve heard it. It was light but Tony still could hear the scuffle of shoes scraping against the pavement right behind him.

Tony held his breath, closing his eyes slightly. He couldn’t get busted. Steve would kill him. Essentially there would be a whole cluster fuck of catastrophes that would leave Tony in a monument of trouble if Tony went to the police station.

He finished quickly with one more round of paint and heard someone clear their throat. He turned his head slightly and almost rolled his eyes.

_Of freaking course. It’s the arachnid freak._

Tony had seen videos of this _supposed_ web-slinger but with today’s technology, Tony wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't just someone with a decent amount of skill with video editing. He stared at the figure perched right on the edge of the building. Tony couldn’t make out the figure’s face since it was hidden beneath a balaclava face mask and the eyes were hidden with black welding goggles.

 _Jesus, could he even see?_ Tony thought, while crossing his arms in front of his chest.

The clad figure had to be freezing. Tony had about three layers on underneath his winter coat and he couldn't block out the cold. A pair of blue long John’s and a red sleeveless hoodie that looked like the figure may have painted on a spider. But nothing to keep the figure warm. It wasn’t going to cut it out in this weather. But the figure didn’t mind much although they hadn’t moved or said anything since Tony turned around.

Tony watched in amusement as the figure tilted their head slightly to the side and the lenses in the googles slanted slightly. Almost trying to act menacingly but to Tony it only looked like the figure was mimicking the curiosity of a cat.

“You know making street murals is illegal. Unless the building’s abandoned or you have some sort of permission. But I doubt it from how shady you’re being.”

Tony quirked an eyebrow upward, “Why does your voice sound like you have a terrible Queens accent?”

The clad figure’s voice fluctuated in between deep and suave but it just didn’t work for him. It sounded cheesy and it only made Tony want to laugh.

“I-I do not!” The figure exclaimed, his voice ranging in higher octaves. He cleared his throat harshly then said, “Anyway, dude. What are you doing here? It’s not an abandoned building by any means.”

“It’s abandoned to me.” Tony sighed, he didn’t really need a reason to think back on his parents. Or the fact that Obadiah wouldn’t let him claim his birthright and be the new head of Stark Industries.

_Five more months._

“How’d you even get up here? It’s like…” the clad figure shifted slightly from his perched position to look down at the busy street then back at Tony, “Really high up.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at the figure, biting back a nasty remark as he instead truthfully said, “I have my ways.” He rearranged the strap on his shoulder. His bag was full of homemade gadgets he made from visiting the home improvement store. He took mostly random items that he tinkered around with to make small weapons and inventions. Just adding onto another thing Steve and Obadiah would freak over. So, at night when Tony could sneak out, New York had become his playground.

“So, you're the crime fighting spider from YouTube?” Tony asked, although the kid looked like he was wearing a pair of underoos underwear than anything resembling an arachnid.

 _Underoos._ Tony thought while smiling, _I like the sound of that._

Underoos didn’t answer, but Tony saw the kid flinch harshly at his words.

 _Heh, a little self conscious._ Tony thought, his smile widening from under his mask. Although he wasn't proud of it, Tony knew he could work that discovery to his advantage.

“Spiderling?” He questioned, raising a eyebrow.

Nothing from Underoos but a slight shake of the head.

“Do you prefer Spider-boy?”

That caused one of the bug eyes to twitch harshly.

Tony stared at the kid’s goggles questioningly. He had a pretty good guess on how the kid made those to express his emotions but he would have to have his hands on it to make sure. Although, if the kid was trying to be terrifying, it certainly wasn’t working. They resembled more like those comical moments in Anime than anything else. It just made the kid seem adorable instead of threatening.

“It’s Spider-Man.” Underoos grumbled, adjusting his shoulders to sit up straighter. It did nothing to make Tony be intimidated by the kid. Underoos seriously lacked confidence, Tony could not only tell from his voice but  his mannerisms too. The kid just didn’t seem comfortable in his own skin, but there was something that made Tony immediately interested in Underoos. He just couldn’t put his finger on it yet.

_He was extremely charming._

“Not in that onesie you’re not.” Tony snorted out, readjusting his bag on his shoulders and looking over what Tony assumed the kid found in the bottom of his closet. Maybe even his mom’s or sister’s clothes.

“This,” Underoos pulled slightly at his jumper, “is not a onesie.”

“Honestly, dude. It looks like you raided your sister’s closet. No shame-” Tony quickly pointed out, “But you do resemble those kids in that old Seventies commercial.” Tony stopped and waited for Underoos’ reaction but only got a shrug of a shoulder.

“Dude, seriously? The ones where they're wearing underoos underwear. Like of Superman and Batman. I mean, I guess the style from that era is coming back-”

“What?” Underoos bugged eyes widened comically like two wide saucers as he pulled at his jumper again, “I would have never-”

Tony raised an eyebrow just as Underoos looked back upward and cleared his throat again, “Uh, do you know what happened to the people who own this building, right?”

Tony didn’t respond but his grin quickly vanished. Not that Underoos could see, but the clad figure continued after a long pause of Tony’s silence.

“It's seriously heartbreaking. You shouldn't be vandalizing it.”

Underoos was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped calmly together. It was like what Tony’s therapist did when Tony wouldn’t open up about his dad. It made red hot flames lick up Tony’s chest and towards his face as the grip he had on his paint bottle tightened. He wasn’t a child anymore, despite everyone treating him like one. Tony just met Underoos and already he was treating him like a kid.

“You know the kid supposedly survived,” Underoos said, changing the subject and pulling Tony out of his flared thoughts. “That accident that took both Howard and Maria Stark.”

Tony bit his lip. Memories of that night was the main reason he had anxiety, but he had gone on two weeks without a attack, he wasn’t going to let one happen now. Especially with Underoos here.

“I’m sure if he did then he’s in hiding.” Tony said, trying to deflect the conversation about his other life.  He took a few deep breaths through his nose as his heart raced and his face began to flush.

“Yeah, he’s supposed to be our age. I-” Underoos stopped suddenly his shoulders hiking upward, “I-I meant your age. I’m a legal adult.”

This made Tony scoff as he shook his head, “Yeah, I doubt that. Not with the squeaky pipes you’re sporting.”

“Hey!” Underoos squeaked, his voice ringing around them.

Tony chuckled as Underoos pulled himself up to full height, looming over Tony. His hands were balled up in fists. When he spoke, his voice sounded deep and gruff, “You’re a smart kid. Leave the vandalism for the actual criminals.”

“Are you trying to do a Batman voice on me? After I heard those pipes squeak? Is there a young lady in there?” Tony asked as he let out a laugh.

“I’m not a girl!” Underoos yelled his voice cracking towards the end.

“I couldn’t care a less. Boy. Girl. Either one works for me.” Tony admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

“Seriously, man!” Underoos whined out, hopping down the ledge to stand in front of Tony. Tony was clearly taller and the kid definitely regretted doing this. He craned his neck upward then immediately saw his mistake and lunged back to try to even out their height again.

“D-don’t you have something better to do on a Thursday night? Don't you have like, homework?”

“Yes,” Tony said, jokingly, “You’re right, I do.”

“I’m serious!” He said, throwing out his arms, “This isn’t worth it at all.”

A popping sound disrupted them and Underoos’  head snapped towards his left hand. He dramatically groaned and fiddled with his cuff where Tony sees a oddly shaped bracelet wound tightly around the kid’s wrist.

“It does that sometimes,” Underoos complained and continued to fiddle around with the bracelet.

 _Christ, this kid needs help._ Tony thought as he took in the pathetic state of the kid who shivering slightly.

“What are you even wearing? Aren’t you cold?”

“It’s my suit.” Underoos answered, sounding proud but shivered again as a slight breeze came past. “I am slightly, but the wicked doesn’t rest. So neither do I.”

Tony’s eyebrows knitted together, “did you seriously just say the _wicked_?”

Underoos shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable, “I didn’t mean you. You seem okay. Cool even, maybe just misunderstood?”

Tony bit back a laugh as he took his bag off his shoulder to unzip it. “I think you’re right.”

“I am?” Underoos questioned as Tony puts his paint bottles in his bag. He turned around and carefully pulled his stencil off the wall.

“You definitely are,” Tony lied, folding up his work.

“Course I am. I’m a professional.” Underoos said, putting his hands on his hips.

Tony let out a sigh, holding back a laugh.  He placed his artwork in his bag carefully then grabbed hold of the Christmas ornament he had been tinkering around with the past week. It was only a prototype but it might work for him to get away. Tony knew he’d have to move quickly after he set it off.

“I can see that, and you changed my views tremendously.” Tony said, hiding the ball behind his bag.

”Really? You seem…” Underoos stopped a second.  Tony watched as a shiver uprooted the kid’s body and he looked around himself, “Wait a second something’s off-”

Tony didn’t  wait for Underoos to finish as he threw the ornament underhand towards the kid's feet. It clinked against the pavement and rolled once before it slightly cracks.

Tony turned his head to the side, narrowly missing the brilliant light and made for the side of the scaffolding. He took out a grappling gun from his belt, wrapping it around his waist tightly and pulled the trigger for it to lodge its way into the wood.

Tony didn’t even glance back as he jumped down and swung in mid air, his stomach leaving him as he clung on for dear life.

The hood of his jacket flew off as he fell through the air. He twisted his body close to the building, letting his feet make contact against the wall.

When he looked upward, there wasn’t any sign of Underoos and Tony thought that maybe it was just that simple to be rid of the freak. He made it about half way when the deep voice of Underoos’ fake accent was heard.

“In a world where the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man protects the big apple. He finds himself a suitable foe in the name of Mr. Graffiti Man who has a knack for making weapons out of Christmas ornaments. Join us as we see just how the amazing Spider-Man will take down this fiend.”

Tony stared incredulously over his right shoulder at Underoos who was hanging beside him, lazily holding onto what Tony could make out as some white translucent rope.

 _Christ!_ Tony shouted in his mind. He was used to being able to get away from the cops quickly and soundly. This kid seriously had some tricks up his sleeve especially with that fluid that seemed to be coming out of his bracelets.

“Could you not? With that awful accent.” Tony snapped, kicking down another feet or so the ground coming closer towards him.

“Oh, my bad. You know-” Underoos said normally as he swung his body down to hang upside down, the hood of his sweater flopping against his head, “you could work on your flashlight bomb thingy. Maybe add a chemical that dissolves the orantment? So that way the shards don’t cut your victim? Just a thought. If I didn’t have my Spidey-Sense, I might’ve gotten a nasty injury.”

Tony stared at him in disbelief. Was this kid really having a conversation with him while hanging upside down? Tony shook his head, what had his life come to?.

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. Did you just say, _Spidey-Sense?_ ”

“Yeah!” Underoos said happily, “it’s like my sixth sense in a way. Everything is like dialed up to eleven and-”

“Hold on!” Tony snapped, bringing the kid’s attention back to Tony, “I’m trying to escape here, do you mind?”

“Oh, yeah!” Underoos said  nodding as he put his hand onto the building, “I get carried away sometimes. Well, proceed in the escaping. I’m kind of excited. I haven’t had anything much to deal with this week yet. Just meeting you has been already interesting.”

As Underoos mouth flapped, he placed his fingertips and knees against the wall and stuck to it without slipping down. Almost like he was crawling on the ground.

Needless to say, it freaked Tony out.

“Jesus! What are you? Some kind of circus freak?”

Underoos looked down at his hands and knees and laughed, “You know I never thought of that?” Underoos said seriously, crawling down the wall to keep up with Tony frantically trying to get down. “I guess I could if this superhero gig doesn’t work out. I’ll look into auditioning for _Cirque du Soleil_.”

Tony barely listened to Underoos’ words as he tried to come up with a explanation on how the kid was climbing walls. _There had to be suction cups on the kid’s hands and knees, but no, the kid didn’t have that on his suit. What the actual Hell?!?_

He watched in slight horror and slight awe as Underoos followed him down the wall, moving creepily like a spider with half its limbs.

 _Well, I get why he calls himself Spider-Man._ In that moment Tony believed every video he ever saw about the web-slinger. He had no idea how this kid had these abilities, but he didn’t doubt anymore about those videos on YouTube. Tony knew that Underoos here. No, Spider-Man was the real deal.

Tony’s feet made contact onto the alleyway pavement and he quickly unwrapped himself from the rope. He backed away cautiously from Spider-Man as the kid perched himself against the wall looking quite comfortable as he rested his head on his hand.

“So, we doing this the easy way or the hard way? Please pick the latter.” Spider-Man asked, sounding quite giddy.

“No offense,” Tony said, pulling his backpack closer to himself, “but you’re so weird.”

Spider-Man nodded thoughtfully, “You know I take that more as a compliment.”

Tony could just tell the kid was grinning under his mask.

“Believe or not. I’ve been called worse.”

Tony watched in confusion as Spider-Man flung his hand out and made a downward hand sign for love as his middle and ring finger pressed down on a button attached to his bracelet.

A flimsy thread of the white substance flew out only to delicately fly away in the wind as Spider-Man stared disbelievingly down at his wrist.

Tony cleared his throat not sure what to make of what just happened, “Uh, technical difficulties?”

“Actually yeah.” Spider-Man admitted still staring down at his wrist then snapped his head back towards Tony and leaped near him.

Tony backed up a few more steps until his back hit the brick wall and he stared down at the kid who was advancing on him.

“Wait! Stay right here! I’m calling a timeout let me change my webbing. Stay!” Spider-Man said, like he was instructing Tony like he was some overeager dog. The kid threw out his hand as Tony watched half amused half terrified as the kid pulled a tube of white fluid out of his pocket.

“Should only take a few seconds.” Spider-Man admitted, wiggling around with his bracelet.

Tony didn’t know what overcame him all he knew was that he couldn’t be caught by the kid and taken downtown. He opened his palm and thrusted it hard upward, knocking the kid’s head backward. Surprised that he was able to land a punch.

“Ow, that hurt!” Spider-Man complained, rubbing his forehead, “What the hell was that?”

“It’s called mixed martial arts.” Tony explained, reaching down to rub his now sore palm. “It’s been around for like a couple weeks now.”

“You mean dirty boxing?” Spider-Man exclaimed, “There’s nothing new about that!”

“Usually there isn’t much talking in a fight you know?” Tony said, side stepping Spider-Man and trying to get away only to make it a few steps and have the kid block him again.

“Sorry my bad.” Spider-Man shrugged, “Sort of new at this.”

“I can tell.” Tony said, eying the tube still lodged in the kid’s fist. “What is that by the way?”

“This?” Spider-Man asked, showing off the tube again as it reflected against the dimly lit alley. “It’s my webbing.”

Tony let out a chuckle, “You’re a bit too serious in your role of being a spider.” and he opened out his palm to have the kid hand it over.

Spider-Man shifted slightly like he was hesitating to give up his vile then tossed it towards Tony who caught it one handed and brought it up to his face to look at it properly. The web fluid looked like a shear-thinning liquid, and Tony wasn’t exactly sure what it was composed of, but it did resemble that of nylon.

“I have to admit, this web shooter and my webs are the coolest thing I’ve ever dreamed up.” Spider-Man boasted, as Tony kept staring at the fluid, turning the vile upside down.

Tony hummed out still trying to figure it out, _It wasn’t carbon nanotubes. What the hell was it?_

“Yeah, so uh, can I have that back now?” Spider-Man asked, as Tony brought back his attention towards the kid.

A loud siren erupted behind the arachnid as the pair jumped at the sound. Spider-Man whipped his head around and Tony didn’t hesitate to take it as a sign for him to high tail it out of there and bolted away.

He didn’t respond when he heard Spider-Man call after him. He weaved throughout the crowded sidewalk almost tripping over a leash of someone’s labradoodle. Tony spit out a lame apology when the woman spat insults at his retreating back.

Tony kept running as his slipped into a back alley way a few blocks away. He only stopped once he hid behind a dumpster that reeked off frozen garbage and Tony willed himself not to gag.

The teen pulled his back against the brick, leaning his head towards the dark sky. It had stopped snowing he realized and he watched as the water vapor in his breath weaved in a circular motion upward.

After catching his breath Tony pulled his hood back over his head and tightened the straps of his backpack. He glanced down at the clear tube of what the kid had called _his webbing_ and frowned at it. Tony only wished it didn't actually come out of the kid in some weird organic matter.

The textile strength was off the charts and for it to be so flimsy at times especially in the tube it was an amazing discovery. Tony wanted to know exactly how it was manufactured. If the kid did it himself or who helped him.

There was a few things Tony wanted as he headed home after pocketing the tube of webbing. He wanted to meet Spider-Man again. Learn everything he could about the kid, and maybe create something for the Spider-Man to look the part and not look like a kid in underoos underwear.

**< \--->**

“Tony!”

Tony could faintly hear the man’s voice calling out to him as he stared up at the milky substance in the glass tube. The sounds of an electric guitar brought him to alertness as he contemplated the liquid inside the tube. An unlit cigarette hung loosely between his lips as he lamely rolled it to each corner of his mouth. On his eighteenth birthday, Steve had taken him to the local gas station just down the street to buy him a coming of age lottery ticket. Only he came out with a pack of cigarettes just to piss his guardian off. Which worked a little too well. Steve was prone to giving Tony a _D.A.R.E._ speech any chance he got. Now, Tony kept them just to annoy Steve. He never had the intention to light one up, even though Tony did get the cravings for it sometimes.

“Tony? Come on!”

Despite turning down his music to understand the man downstairs, Tony’s eyes remained on the tube. He wondered how the kid could make something so flimsy but strong.

Tony was oblivious to the chaos around him, about a dozen of comic books scattered around the wooden floor. Pencils and opened textbooks were littered around his bed. Next to his paper scattered desk sat a easel with crusty paint brushes drying on a rack. It was his mess, but everything was where it needed to be.

“You’re going to make yourself late again! I won’t drive you! You’ll have to figure out your own way to school!”

Tony rolled his eyes, shifting upward to his elbows and made a obscene hand gesture at his closed door.

“Come on!”

Tony plopped his head back, racking his fingers in his hair. _One more day then it’s the weekend, Tony. Only five more months then I graduate. Maybe even sooner._

“Tony!”

“Jesus, I’m up!” Tony snapped back.  “Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he yelled, getting up from his bed and tiptoeing around the art supplies.

He went over to his closet. He had found a loose floorboard there months ago and he had started to hide his work in progress projects inside. Cable wires and tightly secured chemicals were tightly packed in there currently. He was trying to find something that he could use to shock someone like a taser, but he hadn’t been able to find the right cloth that didn’t shock him when he would touch things.

Tony glanced once again at the tube of webbing and tucked it away. This weekend, he knew would be perfect looking into what that stuff was made out of.

After successfully making himself presentable, Tony made his way into the kitchen where he was greeted with a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. The jug of Orange juice was placed down in the middle. _Sometimes I swear Rogers will make a wonderful wife someday._

“I made your favorite, scrambled eggs and cheese,” Steve said, appearing around the corner to place a plate onto the table. Already full of the fluffy eggs.

“Shredded?” Tony asked, pulling out his chair and propped his knee on it.

“Yeah, we’re never going with velveeta again,” Steve answered, leaning over to dip his knife into the jelly.

It  had been a smart idea at first to use a more gooey cheese, but only if Steve hadn’t forgotten about it and let the eggs and cheese burn. Tony’s nose wrinkled. The house had smelled like rotten eggs for a week.

“Rogers?” Tony asked, as he watched the older man spread jelly on the toast.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

_Good, he sounds like he's in a decent mood._

“Can I take my motorcycle out after school?”

It’s been in storage since Tony had gotten to New York. Essentially, it was to keep him safe, especially with him being undercover. But Tony felt like they were only keeping it from him like he had lost his privileges with it.

“Maybe after I get home from work. We could take a spin around town,” Steve answered, biting into the toast.

“Can I go alone?” Tony tried to make his voice go light, “If I stay around the complex?"

 _It’s been so long… Please Rogers._ Tony pleaded in his head.

“Uh, no-no, not without me sorry, Tony.”

Tony’s stomach twisted in knots as he bit his lip. He was about to open his mouth when Steve cut him off,

“Could you please just sit down and take a bite of your eggs that I slaved over the stove for like three minutes.”

Tony rolled his eyes and peered down at his meal of eggs and wheat toast.

“Yeah, as long as I don’t find eggs shells in there?” Tony asked, while picking up his fork and picking at the food.

“Hilarious, but no. There shouldn’t-“ Steve stopped like he was unsure, “just eat up. You can’t take your pills on a empty stomach.”

Tony was about to sit down when a twinge of fear made his stomach drop. He paused and fiddled with his fork. Tony hated lying to Steve about taking his meds, but he knew Steve wouldn’t understand why he decided to not take them. Tony felt like he couldn’t win.

“Oh, wait,” Steve interrupted Tony’s thoughts. The teen looked up to see Steve dramatically bonk his palm against his head. “You’re probably not hungry, not when you had yourself a midnight snack.”

Steve glanced over to Tony, raising his eyebrow slightly. Sometimes Tony wondered how his father and Steve were old friends. From what Tony could remember, their personalities clashed except for these moments here Steve was trying to make Tony aware of his mistakes. Steve was the spitting image of Howard Stark.

“It’s sitting where you left it, Tony.” Steve said, pursing his lips.

Tony put his palms up in defense and swung his leg down to go grab the open jar of peanut butter and the licked clean knife. A plate of a half eaten sandwich sat upon the wooden coffee table and Tony was glad that it was getting colder out so the ants weren't out to get into his food.

“Do I need to remind you of wasting?” Steve voice rang from the dining table.

Tony rolled his eyes and headed towards the kitchen to put the knife in the sink. “Uh, no, I was planning on finishing it later,” he said, while putting the jar in the cupboard.

He heard Steve’s footsteps behind him and he rolled his eyes again, knowing this was the part of the morning where he was going to get a lecture.

“When? After the ants got a hold of it?” Steve asked, as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Yeah, just adding on the protein.” Tony joked, moving back towards the table.

“Did you go out last night?”

“Uh, yeah. Needed some air.” Tony responded, grabbing the cool jar of jelly and sitting down in his chair.

“Outside? In the middle of the night?”

“Well, the air is out there all night long.”

“I don’t understand what that means. We’re talking about air? Is that a reference to something I’m not getting?”

 _Steve and him trying to find references to everything._ Tony thought rolling his eyes, “No, Rogers, it’s not.”

Tony took a bite of his toast and noticed Steve still had his eyes on him. He sighed through his nose and said through his mouthful, “What?”

“It’s just that it’s dangerous, Tony.”

_Here we go again._

“Calm down, Chuckie Finster. It was just a trip around the neighborhood.”

_More or less._

Steve brought his coffee mug to his lips and took a deep swig before saying,  “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”

“Yes,” Tony said. He knew where Steve was heading. “I’m taking my meds, Rogers. You literally count them every night. You control freak.”

“You’re acting a bit manic, Tony.”

“Seriously?” Tony asked, putting down his half eaten toast, “Just because I couldn’t sleep last night and got some air? I wasn’t even gone for that long.”

“Tony, I know. It’s okay. Have you had another sleep paralysis episode? Maybe you could discuss it with Dr. Banner during your next appointment.”

Tony didn’t respond, only loaded his fork up with eggs.

“Your next appointment is after school on Monday.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Tony snapped back and continued to eat his breakfast knowing full well Steve was following his every move.

“Tomorrow morning I want you to take your pills in front of me.”

Tony’s heart thundered in his chest as his underarms pricked with sweat, but he remained calm and collected as he shoved another forkful of eggs into his mouth. He looked up at Steve’s concerned face and smiled cheekily, “I can’t wait.”


	2. Disappear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to throw out a special thanks to some of the most wonderful people who helped me along the way!
> 
> the-mad-starker  
> Sbiderslut
> 
> Thank you so much for looking over and putting up with my half outlines until I finally bit the bullet and finished this.
> 
> Any remaining errors are mine and I'll take full responsibility for. Let me know so I can correct them :)
> 
> Mild Trigger warning:  
> Bullying  
> Normal high school shenanigans 
> 
> Also! please visit me on Tumblr under Kingfisherwoes!

**Chapter Two: Disappear**

**Peter**

Standing beside his locker, Peter felt sweat begin to stain the armpits of his undershirt.

_ No one can see,  _ he assured himself.  _ Not through the enormous sweater you decided to wear today, Parker. _

Still, it didn’t stop Peter from pulling the dark knit away from his armpits. Aunt May took one glance at her nephew this morning and managed not to mention what she was clearly thinking:  _ Peter dear, you wear that sweater almost every week. I know you have a full wardrobe of nice clothes. Go pick something else for a change. _

Instead she joked, “Are you in there? I swear, every time you wear that thing I’m afraid you’ll get swallowed up.” As she spoke in a light tone, her eyes flitted between Peter and his oversized sweater.

Aunt May was subtle like that.

Peter was perfectly aware that it wasn’t his best look. The shade made him look like a washed-out ghost. Practically see-through. It didn’t make his amber eyes  _ pop  _ like that forest green color Aunt May swore looked amazing on him. No, it didn’t help Peter stand out in the crowd, and for that, he was thankful for it.

In fact Peter’s knit sweater was the perfect shade of dark and depressing for his current mood. Plus,  what his aunt failed to realize is that it was a compliment with Midtown’s blue lockers and red bricked walls. It was a perfect disguise for Peter to blend into his environment. He could escape if he really needed to.

Peter’s childhood friend, Harry, was making him do the unthinkable. They Facetimed two nights ago from their respective bedrooms. Peter’s was in its usual shoe box of a room, and Harry’s was far away in England. London, to be exact. He shared it with another boy who was around Peter and Harry’s age. Harry never specified his roommate’s name or anything about him, and Peter got too annoyed from being ignored to ask anymore. 

Harry’s father, Norman Osborn was one of the top businessmen in New York, and could afford to send his son to to study abroad. Harry thought it was to ship him off to be rid of him. Peter thought it was merely to make sure Harry got the best education out there. Harry usually didn’t want to hear Peter’s logic in the matter. He was dead set on Mr. Osborn being a villain in his world.

Needless to say, Harry was gone mid-August, a couple of weeks before the start of their Junior year.

“I’m worried about you,” he said, while munching on a bag of chips.

Peter leaned out of view to roll his eyes and chew at his bottom lip. He peeked back to see Harry’s deadpanned expression on his phone screen, knowing all Harry could see was Peter’s bedroom wall of polaroids Peter had taken with his dad’s old vintage camera. It was mementos to the many adventures he and Harry had taken throughout the winding urban streets of New York.

“Have you asked anyone out since our sophomore year?” Harry put his face closer to the screen. His red hair looked lighter than the last time Peter had seen it. He puckered his lips out for a second then lowered his voice to a whisper,“Have you told your aunt about what you told me and Ned?”

This time, Peter did roll his eyes as he dropped his head to the side and came back into view. 

“I have my headphones in, genius, you don’t need to whisper, and no-”

Peter checked his bedroom door which remained securely shut. He could hear the television play in the living room of some comedy sitcom and turned back to Harry when he was certain May wouldn’t overhear. “And if she knew she’d freak. Anyway, I didn’t tell you guys; you stumbled upon it.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, and the connection fizzled slightly when he arranged himself on his bed. “You mean when you came home through your bedroom window and was sticking to the ceiling?”

Peter’s eyes widened and quickly brought the phone closer to himself. “No, if I remember correctly you both were in my room unannounced. I was in my rights.”

“Oh, yeah, like you forgot that you agreed to come over and finish working on the Death Star set.” Harry smiled slightly and wagged his ginger eyebrow. “Or were you too busy ogling at Liz Allen?”

Peter’s face began to burn as he propped his phone back against his school books. “I wasn’t ogling her. I wouldn’t do that.”

Peter shuddered, if his aunt ever knew he treated a girl or woman like that she’d probably make him sit through those puberty videos on how a young woman’s body worked. Peter had no idea where his aunt would find them, but he did have to admit, the internet was a terrifying place.

“No, but you ogled the heck out of Eddie Brock when we were freshmen.”

This made Peter’s shoulders shoot upward as he glared down at his friend’s face against the screen. “Hey! That was one time, okay?”

Harry snorted, “That was more than one time, Pete.”

Peter pursed his lips and pouted, wondering if it would be rude to end the call now.

“You don’t have to convince me, Pete. I know you swing both ways.” He added a wink for good measure and Peter rested his head in his hands.

“Didn’t you have something important to talk about? I have History homework to catch up on.” Peter said. His head started to throb right behind his temple.

“Oh, yeah!” Harry admitted, sounding cheerful, “I want you to actually talk to someone other than me and Ned. Ask someone out at least. Maybe Michelle Jones? You could start talking to her and ask her to Prom?”

“Prom’s not for another three months.” Peter groaned against his hands, “And anyway, Michelle terrifies me.”

“Just give her chance. She’s not that bad.” Harry ignored Peter’s grimace and continued. “You’d be surprised if you let more people in your life.”

Peter raised his head and glared at his friend, “I have my aunt, Ned and you. Sometimes the decathlon team. Isn’t that enough?”

“Well,” Harry shrugged sheepishly, “If you’re looking to get with someone for prom, then your choices are pretty low. Unless you’re interested in taking your aunt, but you probably shouldn’t try and grind on her when the beat drops.”

Then Harry backed up from his computer screen and scrunched up his face, mimicking what he thought Peter would do at prom and began to pump it up. 

“Dude!” Peter grimaced, feeling like he was going to bring his dinner back up, “That’s disgusting.”

In which Harry merely shrugged. 

“She is attractive,” he admitted, staring longingly at something Peter couldn’t see. 

Peter furrowed his eyes, knowing Harry was imagining his aunt in probably the most disgusting way, which caused Peter to shudder.

“Don’t make me hang up on you,” Peter threatened. 

Oh, how he loved these chats with Harry.

“Okay, okay,” Harry quickly said, putting out his palms in surrender, “If you narrow it down, then it’s just Ned. And I love Ned, you love Ned-”

“And we’d make a really cute couple,” Peter interrupted, which made Harry roll his eyes.

“I know you would, but he’s got a lady friend. So don’t come in between that. I just want you to try, Pete.”

Peter scrunched his eyebrows together. 

“I don’t even know where to start. I mean, all we ever do in school is stare at our phones. I don't think any of us actually speak to one another.”

Harry gave him a look that spoke volumes.

“All you have to do is say hi,” Harry said, “Isn’t that how you and I became friends?  You said hi, and the rest was history."

“I was five,” Peter grumbled, “I didn’t know any better.”

Harry laughed. “Just pretend you’re five again. Just think; what if you meet someone and they end up being your soulmate or some bullshit?”

Peter sighed. “It’s not that easy. What if they, like, unsubscribe from me?”

“What?” Harry leaned in closer to the screen. “Like they unsubscribe from your life?”

Peter didn’t respond but his silence was enough for Harry to let out a breath of air, “This is exactly why you need a girlfriend.”

“Or a boyfriend,” Peter mumbled back, resting his cheek on his hand.

“Or a boyfriend,” Harry agreed, “You just shouldn’t have to spend prom hiding in the bathroom, because I know how you are and you’ll think you’ve ruined Ned’s night by being the third wheel. Even though you won’t, but no one can tell you any differently. I just know how you are.”

Peter stared at Harry, his rosebud lips pursed, but didn't deny it.  He knew he’d be exactly like that.

“It’s just that I really shouldn’t be in a relationship right now. What if we make plans and I have to cancel it, because there’s a mugging I have to stop. Or some other city crumbling disaster.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“And I’m so tired when I get back from patrol. They’ll thinking I’m ghosting them. It wouldn’t be fair and I’m telling them my secret ID. I’d end up breaking someone’s heart.”

Harry rolled his eyes and let out a groan. “Fine! You win but at least say hi to someone! And if a conversation comes from that then great!”

So, Peter had promised to try and talk to  _ somebody _ other than Ned by the end of the week. The  _ somebody  _ Peter had selected as a recipient of his poor greeting. Betty Brant, Midtown’s news anchor and top of her Sophomore class. It didn’t matter that she was a grade below Peter; she was definitely out of Peter’s league.

Peter’s locker had the library’s return box on one side, and he sometimes wished it was the case for both sides. Especially when he had to deal with his locker mate who would meet up with his girlfriend and have a competition of who could suck the life out of each other faster.

Betty was carrying a series of books, none of which Peter could make out the titles of, since her arms were in the way.  She glanced at him briefly as she reached down to open the latch to dump her books in.

Peter bit his lip. He should be considerate and maybe ask if Betty needed help? But that would be more of a conversation then what Peter had initially wanted. He just wanted to say hi to her, then the stupid game Harry was playing with him would be over.

_ Crap!  _

Peter noticed he was staring at her for probably too long. His face shot red instantly and he cleared his throat to make sure it would sound okay and hopefully not crack when he spoke. Betty glanced over to him again and grimaced.

_ Way to go, Parker. Why did you pick her? She literally hates you. _

Which, Peter didn’t blame her. He practically ditched her best friend at Homecoming last year. All because Flash Thompson had made nasty remarks about Peter’s secondhand suit that Aunt May had found for a killer price. But it didn’t matter; all of it was ruined when Flash dumped his spiked punch onto Peter’s head and it soaked into the fabric his suit. A few kids gasped and chuckled at Peter’s dismay, but it only made Peter rush out of the gym to hide like a preschooler in the bathroom. 

He ended up in the bathroom stall with the door closed, crouched up on the toilet so his legs wouldn’t show. As if Flash and his crew would break in and bust him from his hiding spot. They would then drag Peter into the gymnasium. Which Peter knew that the whole student body would laugh at him. So, Peter stayed there for the entire evening until Harry and Ned coaxed him out. It wasn’t Peter’s proudest moment, and it didn’t make matters better that Liz was moving away two weeks later.

Again, not one of Peter’s proudest moments.

But here Betty was, standing right next to Peter, and all he had to say was that one tiny word to fulfill his mission. Then, Peter could complain to Harry about it later. He wasn’t even asking himself for a full on “ _ Hello,”  _ or anything insane like,  _ “How are you?” _

Just, “ _ Hi.” _

Betty glanced between the drop-off box and at Peter. One of her beautifully curved eyebrows arched high on her forehead. She was waiting, because like a noob, Peter was staring. He knew he was, but apparently he couldn’t seem to stop, or move, or otherwise act like a normal human being. Her blonde brows pulled together in a deep V-shape and her head tilted to the side.

“Did you say something?” She knew Peter hadn’t said anything. She was just being nice.

Oddly, Peter was grateful for it.

He glanced down at the floor, his face burning.

_ Forget saying hi,  _ Peter thought,  _ It’s all I can do not to hyperventilate. _

Betty sighed and whispered a short,  _ “whatever,” _ and took off down the hall, her blonde hair swishing from side to side.

Peter watched her go, exhaling the pressure away in his chest. There was a moment of relief as his fear subsided, but there was  also his voice screaming inside his head that he honestly sucked if he couldn’t speak to a girl around his age, or younger than him.

_ One simple “hi” was all you had to do. _

Peter dragged his gaze back towards his open locker, to the photo of him and his decathlon team last year, all showing off their best goofy faces. Peter was squished between Harry and Ned as they gave him bunny ears. He was in mid-laughter when the photo was taken. Everyone looked happy to be there. Liz was giving out a peace sign and had her eyes crossed. Liz was always the glue that kept the team together and Harry was the serious but fun addition. Now, the team felt vacant. 

Michelle and Cindy were doing a wonderful job of taking over as team captain and co-captain. But, Harry and Liz were a perfect match, both outgoing, both beautiful people inside and out. They knew how to lead the team. Both Liz and Harry would host game nights and trivia before meets. It brought the team closer together. 

Granted, Harry usually hosted these events at his Manhattan penthouse. Now though, the only time the team got together like that and bonded was when they were in practice. It was kind of a shame. Not that Peter had time to dwell on it. Since becoming Spider-Man, he had to denounce his first chair title to third alternate. It caused an anarchy from his fellows teammates since it brought Flash to third chair and caused the whole system to collapse. Flash was too cocky and quick when meets happened and it would cost them their chance at Nationals. Something they blamed on Peter rather than Flash, and since it didn’t change Peter’s mind about being back at first chair, most of his teammates were giving him the cold shoulder.

Peter touched the picture, because sometimes it just helped. He didn’t know why, but it did.  _ Only one more hour to go, then Ned and I will get sandwiches at Mr. Delmar’s sub shop, then I can go out as Spider-Man. _

Peter thought it was too bad that the guy he met last night didn’t count in Harry’s little game of getting-to-know-someone-new. He knew the guy was a senior. Peter had seen him around in the halls and in some of his AP classes. Usually sullen, kept to himself, _always_ sat in the back row and doodling in his notebook or full-on napping. Of course, the one person Peter actually had a conversation with in school besides Ned is a criminal.

Peter shut his locker irritably then  headed toward his next class, concentrating on not tripping or getting slammed by a backpack, or even poked in the side by a taunting Flash. The latter was more realistic since Flash Thompson and his crew of other merry idiots created a wall to block Peter in.

_ Great. _

“Hey Penis Par-Ker!” Flash taunted always putting emphasis on the last part of Peter’s name.

“Hi!” Peter blurted out almost smacking his hand against his face. It was the only thing Peter could think of saying. Even though he knew he just should’ve ignored Flash.

_ Just perfect. _

“Uh, hi?” Flash answered, “What’s wrong with you, Parker?”

“N-nothing.” Peter stumbled to say rearranging his bag.

Flash noticed this and looked at one of his friend’s.

“Peter what’s with you getting new backpack? I swear this is like the third one this month.”

_ Fifth.  _ Peter thought bitterly.

“Dude, you should totally add something to Peter’s bag. We only have five more months to mess with him. He needs a  remainder,” Bentley, one of Flash’s lackies said, grinning from ear to ear.

Peter tried stepping away but two of the guys caged him in.

“Don’t worry, Parker it’ll only take a minute,” Flash sneered as he forcibly turned Peter around and opened the cap to his marker.

He stared up at Bentley’s and Phil’s sneering faces as Flash scribbled onto his bag.

Peter knew he shouldn’t let Flash walk all over him, but there was only so much he could do. He had these powers and the responsibility to use them correctly. Flash and his band of idiots didn’t count.

Peter felt it before it happened.  It was a rush of tingles shooting up his back as his body broke out in gooseflesh. But Peter had to void it. He knew he couldn’t use his Spidey-sense here in school, especially with Flash.

“Wash that off and you’re dead,” Flash threatened as he pushed Peter backward.

Peter began to fall,  his stomach bottoming out as he struggled to keep his balance. His back hit hard with a body behind him and he heard a low grunt and a curse of pain.

Flash and his cronies were far gone; already halfway down the hall.

“Whoa, there! Pretty sure you use those legs for walking upright or are you just naturally clumsy?”

Peter knew that voice. It was warm, rich, like dark chocolate and whiskey. Not that Peter knew what the latter tasted like but he assumed from the scent. He vaguely remembered the smell coming off from his father’s glass when he would work late in his study.

It was a voice deep and warm enough to burn like pure cinnamon, like if you take it in too fast it would leave your throat stinging in the best way.

Peter scrambled to stand as he turned to see the guy he met last night on the ledge of Stark Tower. The kid who was vandalizing the tower with his amazing mural. It was the same guy who made some really cool gadgets.

The guy that Peter knew  met Spider-Man, not Peter, and the guy who definitely knew his voice.

The guy cocked his head to the side. His lips curled up slightly at the corner. “You’re the kid that got bitten by the spider at Oscorp, right?”

Peter’s face heated up and he looked down at his hand, the memory of that radioactive spider fresh in his mind’s eye.

“Is that where it bit you?” the kid asked, grabbing Peter’s wrist, bringing it close to his face. “Good thing it didn’t scar.”

His face was going to melt off soon, Peter just knew, he needed to get away from this guy. Peter stood there awkwardly, keeping quiet and wanting to run. But also, he oddly enjoyed Tony’s warm calloused hand in his.

“I’m Tony, by the way. Tony Collins,” he said, dropping Peter’s hand after he shook it once in a tight grip.

Peter, caught in a daze, let his hand drop to his side as he stared back at Tony, biting his lip.

“Um yeah, so anyway, you realize someone wrote something on your bag, right?”

Peter’s eyes widened and he took his bag off his shoulders, looking at the phrase Flash wrote.

Right there, in block letters, it read,

**PENIS PARKER**

Peter scoffed, ready to voice out his complaints when he realized who he was with and clamped his mouth shut.

“You always this quiet?”

Peter shrugged, about to bring his hand to his mouth to muffle his voice when Ned came bounding up to him.

“Peter! You won’t believe what arrived at my house. You’ll have to come over to my house so we can assemble it!”

Ned clasped Peter’s shoulder and shoved his phone into Peter’s face. Peter scrunched his eyes close from the overstimulating light from Ned’s phone screen and blinked a couple of times to stare down at a Star Wars Lego set.

“See you around, Peter,” Tony said, just as Peter tried getting Ned’s phone out of his face. “Glad that my body saved you from injuring yourself,” he added, nodding to Ned and making his way down the hall.

Ned raised a questioning brow at the retreating back of Tony and turned towards Peter.

“Well, ready for your debate?” Ned asked, ignoring Peter’s bewildered stare at the upperclassman and tugged on Peter’s arm to follow him down the hall. 

Peter turned slightly and watched Tony head the opposite way, his backpack slung lazily over his shoulder. His jeans not too tight, not too baggy, forming around his nice beh-

Peter whipped back around his face burning.“What? Yeah, wait no. No, I’m not.”

“Peter, you’re going to be great,” Ned reassured. “You’re going up against Flash. This is what Midtown High has been waiting for. Peter, you obviously, the smartest kid Midtown has seen in years, against Flash who lives up to his name, and always is wrong with his facts. You literally get to put him in his place. He can’t do a thing when Mr. Davis is around, and I’ll stick by your side after school so Flash and his friends can’t get to you.”

“But, I’m going  _ after  _ Flash.” Peter whined, “It won’t matter because he’ll already went and after school he’ll just say something about my speech putting everyone to sleep. I knew when Mr. Davis paired us up it was going to be torture. I mean, look at what he did to my backpack!” Peter swung his bag off to show Ned who grimaced at the nasty phrase hastily written there, “If I can’t wash it off I’ll have to get another one. Aunt May is going to kill me.”

“I’m sure in this situation she’ll understand.”

Peter gave Ned a deadpan expression and began to wipe at the words. 

“I hate this school,” He admitted, still rubbing at the phrase.

“You don’t hate the school,” Ned said, while nudging Peter’s shoulder, “You just can’t stand Flash and his idiot friends. Just tell Aunt May the truth.”

“I can’t. She’ll worry and go crazy with our principal, and I can’t deal with it.” Peter grimaced and tugged his bag back over his shoulder.

They made their way past the cheerleaders who were chatting excitedly together in a tight ring and Peter’s mind swam around his predicament. He had no idea what he was going to do. He couldn't play mime forever with Tony. His thoughts clouded over with Flash bullying him and he groaned, “Dang it, this will be the sixth bag this month!”

All other unfortunate bags were stolen from his time web slinging around New York.

“Really? Dude, you need to hide your bags better.”

“May’s really going to freak,” Peter mumbled, his heartbeat quickening as he imagined his aunt talking madly around his kitchen. She’d use large arm movements to convey her point and curse in Italian.

“Maybe if you tell her the truth,” Ned pried again.

Peter glared at his friend, but didn’t comment.

“Okay, fine. I’ll drop it. So, who was the kid you almost bulldozed into the lockers?”

“Him?” Peter asked, pointing behind himself, “That’s the kid I was talking about at lunch.” Peter said, lowering his voice,“Tony Collins. The one that was vandalizing Stark’s Tower last night. The one that stole Spider-Man’s web fluid.”

“That was the guy?” Ned asked, looking unconvinced, “You sure? And correction- you didn’t  _ say _ that, you wrote it down. Michelle literally thought we were passing love notes.”

Peter rolled his eyes. He’d rather Michelle’s taunts and snide jokes were kept at a minimum. Plus, he didn’t want to explain something out loud about Spider-Man where he knew Michelle would overhear. She was creepily everywhere and knew way too much as is.

“Of course I… I mean Spider-Man would know,” Peter said, as they rounded the corner to the hallway their last class of the day was located on. “Just ignore Michelle. She always tries to say something to get a reaction from someone.”

Ned still didn’t look convinced. “How though? in those goggles? I mean I honestly couldn't see my own hand while wearing them and it was right in front of my face.”

“Whatever!” Peter snapped, “I told you it helps me narrow everything in. You know what? Never mind, I just know, okay? That was him, and I somehow need to get my- Uh, I mean, Spiderman’s stuff back.”

Ned raised an eyebrow, “Dude, I love you so much, but you’re horrible at this. I still think you could use a guy in chair.”

Peter pursed his lips as they stepped in the classroom, ignoring Mr. Davis’ eyes on him as he took his seat in the third row. He didn’t need a reason for Mr. Davis to talk to him before class started. If he could narrowly avoid his history teacher it would be for the best.

“I know, okay?” Peter whispered, as Ned settled into a desk next to him. “I know it’s a lot, but I’m sure of it. I just know, okay?”

Ned raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment as he reached into his bag to get his notes out. Peter started to do the same and looked back over to Ned. “And stop asking about if you can be my guy-in-the-chair. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Ned pouted his lips at Peter then answered back with, “That’s what a guy-without-a- guy-in-the-chair would say. But I think a willing guy-in-the-chair should get the job before someone else takes it. Especially, since this guy-in-the-chair has been friends with this  _ person  _ for a long time.”

Peter was left in confusion as he tried to keep up with Ned’s rambling until he shook himself out of it. He grimaced and put his head against his open palms, fighting back a laugh.

“Shut it, Ned.” he said, hiding his smile as Ned chuckled beside him.   
  


**< —>**

 

Peter chewed at the end of his pencil, eyeing the large clock on the wall. History was halfway done and Flash had taken up about twenty minutes of it. Longer than what he was supposed to, but he had completely ignored Mr. Davis timer and kept rattling off.

“It's that Robin Hood act he’s doing, supposedly helping the less fortunate. When in reality, he is hurting the very people who train and devote themselves to protect our city. Why isn’t he leaving the job up to the NYPD who actually relies on getting a paycheck by the end of the each week? Is he expecting one as well? Who’s going to come up with that kind of money? Because the taxpayers already send in enough as is. This guy really thinks he’s doing a better job than our own police department and other people think that way, too. I mean, look at the news and the videos on YouTube. He’s banking on the frame even though they keep calling him,  _ The crime-fighting Spider-Boy.” _

Peter shuddered, his thoughts flashing towards last night with Tony.

_ “What am I supposed to call you? Underoos?” _

Peter shook his head; he couldn’t be thinking of Tony right now, not when this debate literally was going to be the death of him. He stared at the red and blue wording that was right above Flash’s head.

**Spider-Man**

**A villain or a hero?**

“-Then there will be cutbacks  it would lead to these hard working officers, losing their jobs. This spider guy is a complete amateur. Do you really want him protecting our city? How can we sit still and justify this?”

Peter sunk low in his seat. He had to deal with Flash on a normal basis was hard enough, but listening to him drag Spider-Man through the wringer was completely exhausting. Peter bit his lip as his stomach did a series of flips.

Peter took a deep breath, hoping the anxiety he felt would go away. He glanced over at Ned and leaned over towards him. “Maybe I won’t have to go until Monday-”   


Flash was currently ringing his fist out and shaking it as he spoke about how Spider-Man was corrupting impressionable minds of the youth by not being the conventional superhero that they saw in media and cartoons.

It didn’t make much sense to Peter and when he glanced over at Mr. Davis, he was rubbing his temples like he was on the verge of having a migraine.

“Can you go over my point again with me? Just in case?” Peter asked, eyes still on Flash’s over-the-top ramble.

“Seriously, again?” Ned asked, his eyes too glued on Flash’s display.

“Please?” Peter pleaded and heard Ned sigh out.

“Fine. Okay, Spider-Man isn’t a menace. He is creating a public service and helping out the NYPD. Spider-Man stands for protecting the innocent. Cleaning up the streets from the bad guys. Although, sometimes he can be messy and expects someone else to clean it up.”

“Hey!” Peter snapped glaring over at Ned, “who’s side are you _on_?”

Which only made Ned snicker.

“Well, seems like Mr. Parker is eager to share his side of this debate. How about it, Flash?”

Peter snapped his attention towards Mr. Davis then immediately scrambled with his note cards, Flash at the same time scowled and made his way back to his seat.

“Alright, wonderful. We all heard Mr. Thompson’s rebuttal. Now, we’ll hear Peter Parker’s affirmative side. He will present the positive argument for our proposition.”

Peter made his way towards the front of the classroom. He took a deep breath and turned around only to have the air in his lungs escape him from who he saw sitting right in the back row. 

Dark eyes on his and smiling just a tad. He was curious and not sleeping for once in class. It was enough for Peter to flee from the room, because sitting up and attentive was Tony Collins.

_ He can’t hear my voice _ , Peter thought, his hands starting to shake.

Peter glanced desperately at Ned.

“What’re you doing?” Ned mouthed, giving a exasperated look, “We just went over what you’re supposed to say.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he quickly jerked his hands slightly away from his stomach, trying to get Ned to look in the back of the classroom. Ned furrowed his brows, shrugging in clearly confusion.

“Behind you,” Peter mouthed, pleading desperately to Ned with his eyes. Peter knew he must of looked silly, like a bugged eyed freak. Especially, with Ned giving him a bewildered stare when his eyes began to twitch from how much he was widening them.

_ How could Ned not know?!? _

“What?” Ned whispered.

This was getting Peter nowhere. He could tell everyone in his class was becoming confused by his frantic behavior.

_ I’m such an idiot. _

“Look behind you!” Peter mouthed, glancing at Tony. 

Tony, of course, had his dark eyes locked on Peter’s. This had to be the first time Tony ever paid attention in class. He watched Tony’s head cock slightly to the side, waiting for Peter to speak. It was such a normal reaction but it caused Peter to quickly look away, his face burning hot.

_ Of course, he’s in my class! Of course, he decides to pay attention when I have to go in front of the class. My freaking luck! _

Peter did another series of small hand gestures towards Ned again who only shook his head and looked at Peter like he was insane. It made Peter completely helpless and he sighed out in frustration.

“Mr. Parker,” Mr. Davis said, breaking Peter’s thoughts about shouting at Ned for him to get the picture.

Peter jumped slightly, turning his attention towards Mr. Davis and smiled weakly.

“Sorry, Mr. Davis,” Peter mumbled, quiet enough so only his history teacher could hear.

“If you and Mr. Leeds are done playing a horrible game of charades.” A collection of giggles from Peter’s classmates flooded the room. Peter smiled weakly as he saw Ned from the corner of his eye shrink lower in his seat. “Then I think it’s time to hear your debate on the affirmative side. Why do you think Spider-Man is a hero to the big apple?”

Peter bit his lip. He still couldn’t speak in front of Tony. The guy would just know. He was incredibly intelligent and he seemed to be the type to know by quirks and recognizing small gestures. 

Peter had to think of something. He had to get a good grade in this class. Especially since this assignment was incredibly easy, even though Peter sometimes felt too inadequate to be a hero.

He turned toward the whiteboard and grabbed a dry erase marker and set to work on his points. 

_ This is going to take forever,  _ He thought irritably as a wave of tingles crawled up his spine and left gooseflesh. Mr. Davis came close to Peter’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“As much as I’d welcome a moment of silence, this is supposed to be a speech portion assignment. Your grade is reflected on not only your strong points and arguments, but also your voice and how you handle yourself speaking in front of the class.”

“It’s clear he should’ve went first, Mr. Davis. My debate must’ve won him over.” Flash spoke from his desk and caused many of Peter’s classmates to roll their eyes.

“That’s enough, Mr. Thompson. Class, let me have a few moments with Peter.” Mr. Davis stopped for a moment, contemplating then said, “Talk among yourselves.”

The class immediately erupted with sounds as some whipped out their phones to get their notifications when Mr. Davis had his back turned. Peter followed nervously as Mr. Davis went to the opposite side of the classroom. 

“What’s wrong, Peter?”

“N-nothing.” Peter shrugged, even though his voice cracked and told his teacher otherwise.

Mr. Davis arched an eyebrow and stared down at him. “Peter, I know you’re aware of your current grade in this class.”

Peter winced. He was fully aware of his lowering grade in history. Since this class fell at the end of the day, it seemed to be the prime time other than the late evenings that crime happened.  Since he coded a police scanner app into his phone, he couldn't ignore certain calls, which has led to him ditching class more than once .  It didn’t help either when he’d forget to turn in assignments or when Mr. Davis had called him in after class and discuss tutoring one-on-one with him one on one. Peter lied and told his teacher that he had to help out his aunt straight after school.

Mr. Davis was accepting for a bit, but it was made clear that Peter was on thin ice with the teacher.

“This thing you need to help out your aunt with. Do you need to talk to the guidance counselor about it?”

“N-no. No, it’s not like that-” Peter stopped. He had no idea what he should say.

“Peter, this is your final chance. I’ve already discussed it with the office.”

Peter winced. His aunt was literally going to kill him. “I-”

“You’re a bright student, Peter. You’ve always done well in class and never ditched so I’m just confused why all of a sudden you’re doing this now? Is there something you need to discuss with someone you trust?”

“No, I mean, I don’t-”

Just like freaking clock work. Tony made his way towards the pair, holding a series of crumpled up paper in his hands.

“Nice to see you awake for once, Mr. Collins,” Mr. Davis said, turning his attention off of Peter for the time being.

Peter covered his mouth with his hand as he glanced at the whiteboard to ignore Tony’s eyes on him.

“Yeah,” Tony said from beside him, smacking his hands together to wipe away what Peter guessed was small pieces of paper stuck to his hands. “When there’s finally something interesting going on in class.”

Mr. Davis scoffed, “Very funny, Mr. Collins, back to your seat. Peter? You feeling okay?”

Peter was about to say no when he stopped. If he pretended to be sick, then he could get out of class for a while. He could ignore Tony just for a bit longer and think of a better solution then what he was doing. It was worth a shot, right?

Peter shook his head, lowering his gaze to the floor. He knew Tony’s eyes were still on him. Tony’s eyes seemed to bore into him like a magnifying glass.

“Are you going to get sick?”

Peter didn't answer. After taking a quick glance at both Tony's and Mr. Davis' concerned expressions, he did what he thought was a cowardly move. He bolted from the room. 

Peter could hear some of his classmates and his teacher call after him but he kept running down the hall. Peter knew he’d have to deal with his consequences later, but for now, he’d deal with them when he had much more time on his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts! I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you! <3


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